


Coming Clean

by d0g-bless (d0gbless)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Identity Reveal, Pidge-centric but not really from her POV, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gbless/pseuds/d0g-bless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pidge-centric series. Supposedly no one knew Pidge's secret. Still, everyone found the truth in one way or another. But there lies another secret: how did everyone figure it out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lance

**Author's Note:**

> On pronouns: I use she/her/hers for Pidge. I feel that since Pidge felt it was important to tell her friends she's a girl, I should use female pronouns for her. But if you use male or gender neutral pronouns for Pidge, that's great! I think Pidge is just happy everyone is accepting of her (or him or them).
> 
> Go. Read. Be great.

Lance never thought he’d miss eating Coran’s green goo. But after spending what Allura told him was around 86,400 seconds—a conversion of 24 hours from seconds, which had been converted from Altean ticks—in a medicinal cryopod, he couldn’t get enough of the stuff.

Everyone had been worried sick about him, apparently. Worried enough to monitor him while he ate. (It wasn’t exactly the date with Allura he’d hoped for.) Even Keith. _He'd been the worse. He did just say the words “We had a bonding moment” in front of everyone?_

Allura had just finished talking about Sendak, who sounded like was an imprisoned frozen popsicle in the Castle’s basement. 

Eager to change the subject, he looked over to Hunk. “Sooo, what’s the plan now?”

“We have to get back to the Balmera and save Shay and her people.” Every muscle in Hunk tightened, as if he was going to pounce on an Altean mouse. He was ready to fight.

Lance raised a brow. Hunk was the big mother hen—always worried about how the chicks were doing: “Is anyone hurt? Are you feeling okay? Don’t go into battle when you haven’t gotten enough sleep.”

For Hunk to not even be babying him after being hospitalized or whatever meant something was up. Never one to miss an opportunity, Lance took his shot. “Wow, you are really hung up on this lady.”

“No, it’s not like that.” One of the mice collapsed on the table—either from shock at Hunk’s determination or from eating too much. “Guys, when you see how Zarkon has treated these people and destroyed their home…” He paused for a second, images flashing through his mind. The hideous, cracked surface of the Balmera. The stench of its groaning, dying breaths. And then to Shay. A girl who never knew what it meant to be free. To see the sky at night and all its sparkling wonders. “They’ve been under his thumb so long, they don’t even know what it is to be free. It’s up to us to set this right. This is what being a paladin of Voltron is all about. It’s time to man up.” 

Six sets of eyes stared at Hunk. One golden bespectacled pair looked away, but intensity was still flickering in them.

“Then let’s get moving,” Shiro said. Now secure in the knowledge that Lance was okay, he could leave his side. “Time to go defend the universe.”

Keith and the others got up to follow—save for Pidge.

“Wait.”

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks. Pidge was the quietest of the group—surely what he had to say was important.

“I have something to say first. I need to come clean and I’m afraid this may change the way you all think about me.” Pidge stared at his shoes, unable to look his fellow paladins and friends in the eye.

He took a deep breath and continued. “Just so there are no secrets between us anymore, I can’t ‘man up.’” Pidge peered up, unsure of how everyone else would take the news.“I’m a girl. I-I mean, I can ‘man up’ because that’s just a figure of speech.” Out of habit, Pidge readjusted his—no, her—glasses. “I don’t actually have to be a man to ‘man up.’ I just have to be tough. But what I’m saying—“

Lance shook his head. Did he hear that right? Or were his ears still healing after that battle? “Wha—? You’re a girl? How?” 

The mouse perched on Allura’s shoulder peered up at the princess, reading her reaction. Allura smiled sweetly with a gentle gaze. “I’ve known for some time, but I’m glad you’ve shared it with everyone.” 

The only change in Hunk’s expression was that of a loose smile—a stark contrast between the tense, angry guy talking about Shay and the Balmera. “Yeah, I figured.” 

Equally unsurprised was Keith. “Oh, yeah. Me, too.” 

Coran was merely confused at this confession. He planted a gloved hand on Allura’s unoccupied shoulder and vaguely pointed a finger on the other. “Wait, wait, we were supposed to think you were a boy?” 

And last but not least was Shiro. Cool and calm as always, but he’d already known her little secret. “Pidge, owning who you are is going to make you a better paladin.” 

Pidge sighed. To think, she was free from hiding herself from the world. “It’s good to get that off of my chest.” Better yet, everyone else had known all along—except for Lance. Best of all, they didn’t care whether she was a boy, girl, or something else. They loved her for the smart, sarcastic, and stubborn paladin she’d always been. Hunk’s resolve was infectious and had spread its way to Pidge. “Now let’s launch this castle-ship!” She dashed ahead of everyone else, ready to put up a good fight. 

“Wait, what?” Everything was happening too fast for Lance to process. “Pidge is a girl and the Castle is a ship? How long have I been out?"

No one had time to answer his questions. But given the life-threatening circumstances, did it really matter if Pidge was a girl? She'd saved his life, after all. More importantly, the Castle was a ship. As a cargo pilot-trainee and the Blue Lion's Paladin, that should be his focus.

Lance broke off into a sprint behind his friends, eager to get caught up on the last 86,400 seconds he'd missed.


	2. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to everyone who's read my first Voltron fic, "Identity Crisis." Thanks for the 1k hits!

Shiro couldn’t shake the sense of déjà vu he felt whenever he saw Pidge. Pidge looked like someone he knew. But the face and names didn’t line up. Pidge Gunderson. Was there a Gunderson on the Kerberos mission?

When Pidge told him that Commander Holt was her father, his cloudy memories became crystal clear. Just as clear as the river water they drifted on in that moment.

He remembered dinner conversations on the Kerboros mission with the Commander and his son. Talking about their families back home. (Shiro couldn’t recall his side of these conversations.) How proud the Commander was of his daughter back on Earth. Stories of her remarkable intelligence, sometimes rivaling her brother’s. Of childhood memories and games. Matt grew red at the Commander’s more embarrassing stories, but laughed it away.

Just as red as Pidge had been when Lance talked about meeting other girls. (Though Shiro also caught hints of Lance looking at Keith a certain way.) Pidge Gunderson was as close as anyone could get to replicating (but never replacing) Matt Holt. Somehow the commanders at the Garrison overlooked their similarities.

Maybe they’d forgotten him.

But how anyone could possibly forget Matt Holt? It was a question Shiro himself struggled to answer. He, too, had forgotten Matt.

At first, Matt had seemed like a quiet kid. He was around the same age as Shiro—maybe a little younger, but it was hard to tell. If Shiro was a tree, then Matt was a twig: small, skinny, and easy to bend. If you wanted someone to carry a seventy-pound crate of freeze-dried potatoes, Matt was not the guy for the job. (Needless to say, working in zero gravity had its benefits for a kid like Matt.)

But once Matt had warmed up to Shiro, he proved himself a good friend. Quick and nimble, but wouldn’t hurt anyone. The kid was a pacifist. He would’ve made a better scientist or diplomat than a fighter.

No one had forgotten Shiro, it seemed. When Keith and Lance first met him, they’d called him a hero. A senior officer. They remembered Shiro.

Pidge remembered Shiro, too. Pidge remembered everything. She had eyes like a hawk, scanning over every detail for a hint. Her vision was sharper than the crystal formations on the now-revived Balmera. Its only flaw was its narrow focus: finding her brother and father.

It was no wonder she’d been so upset whenever someone brought up Kerboros. He returned, her friends hailing him as a great hero. But her family was still out there, forgotten. No one had cared to ask him about the rest of the crew. They were too busy trying to “put him under,” or too excited to toy with his arm.

And yet, she’d been nothing but patient with him. She clearly wasn’t happy he couldn’t give her any details. But Pidge would never comment or ask him any further—although her eyes shone with curiosity. She held back her questions, no matter how badly she wanted the answer. And for that, Shiro was grateful.

But when he did remember something, she was there to support him. Talk him through the traumatizing memories and hold him tight—just as he’d done for her. That day had been a long one. Everyone was tired and homesick. (Hunk was very motion sick, too.) Pidge's trust had in him had been shattered. He remembered attacking her brother-- his friend. The memory didn't sit well with him. And luckily for the two of them, it was incomplete.

Once he'd retold it with a fuller picture, Pidge had hugged him and cried into his shirt.

“Your father and brother would be proud of you, Katie.”

Katie had looked up at him, wide- and teary-eyed.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”


	3. Hunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: In this chapter, Pidge goes by male pronouns. (Reasoning explained in-story.)

Lance tossed his third Alien energy drink can at an overflowing trash bin. “Yes! Two points!”

Instead of pointing out to Lance that he missed his shot, Hunk let out a heavy sigh. Hopefully his obnoxious roommate would get the hint and let him study. _I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the reason Pidge requested a single room._

Squeaky wheels squealed across the floor in brief increments. “Psst, Hunk. Hunk. Hunk.”

Hunk tried to keep his eyes on his assignment instead of rolling them into the back of his head. 

“I have something important to tell you.” 

Hunk whirled around. “What?” 

“Hi.” Lance broke into laughter, nearly falling out of his rusty-wheeled office chair.

_Okay, that is **it**._ Hunk shoved the less-than-halfway-completed assignment into his backpack and stomped out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him. 

Even with the door closed, he could still hear Lance’s maniacal laughter. 

* * *

Hunk decided to hit up the commissary for a quick late-night snack before getting back to work. He had about five minutes before close. Normally, he’d never buy anything this late. He had a brother who owned a restaurant. His brother had hated it when people expected them to serve them within the last half hour. But he knew exactly what he wanted and was the only customer present.

“I’ll have three packs of those peanut butter crackers.” The battle-scarred chef crossed her scarred arms and scowled. Hunk handed her his student ID and smiled. “Please?”

She swiped his ID three times and threw Hunk’s order into his hands. (The first two times were too fast for the scanner to register it.) “If you need anything else, please hesitate to ask.” With that, the chef shuffled off.

Hunk threw a shaky salute. “Y-yes, ma’am!”

“Wait!” A pair of light, squeaky sneakers skidded over the recently mopped floor. A crash indicated that something—or someone—just wiped out.

He knew that voice. “Pidge?” Hunk ambled over—slow enough not to wipe out and join his partner. 

It looked as though Pidge scraped a knee, but paid it no mind since he was crawling around on all fours. “Ma—My glasses. Where are they?”

A crunch from beneath Hunk’s foot answered that question. He lifted his foot and inspected them. Silver frames were split in two down the bridge. The lenses matched the Pidge’s expression. Shattered and broken. “Oh, no. No, no, no…”

Pidge fumbled over to Hunk.

“I-I can get you a new pair?”

Pidge’s lower lip trembled. “That’s… very kind, Hunk. But it won’t be necessary. There’s no replacing these.” Handsome golden eyes settled themselves on Hunk’s textbook. Pidge forced a smile and changed the subject. “Working on physics, huh?” 

Hunk narrowed his eyes. Pidge always wore those glasses. And yet the guy could read the small print on the cover? Weird. It was almost like he didn’t even need them. “You know… I think I might be able to fix your glasses. Not the lenses. You’ll have to replace those. But the frames shouldn’t be too hard.” 

“Are you sure you can fix them?”

Hunk detected some hesitation in his teammate’s voice. Or maybe it was just that Pidge’s voice hadn’t dropped yet. He sounded like a soprano compared to all of the tenors and basses in the male dormitory.

“I’m not confident about a lot of things, but I am about this.” Hunk cleared his throat. “I’ll meet you in your dorm in ten minutes.” He started off towards his hall, but Pidge’s shout of “Wait!” stopped him. 

“Um… does it have to be mine?” Pidge twiddled his fingers.

“Well, no. But Lance is probably on his fifth energy drink by now. He was on number three when I left.”

Pidge pushed up glasses that weren’t there. “See you in ten.”

* * *

Hunk finished collecting supplies: two small dowel rods, pins, and a small metal pot. He usually used it for boiling water for pasta. The difficult thing would be finding a source of heat at this hour. But between him and Pidge, Hunk was fairly certain they’d figure something out. For all he knew, Pidge might have a Bunsen burner hidden somewhere.

Maybe that was why Pidge was so anxious about letting Hunk into his room. Contraband items from the Garrison. Maybe the guy was a kleptomaniac. Or maybe a serial killer. _It’s always the smart, quiet ones who are the murderers, right?_ Hunk sighed. _Or maybe I’ve been watching too many horror movies with Lance._

Lance had insisted on making him watch foreign horror films—apparently they were scarier than American ones. (Not that Hunk knew if that was true or not. The horror genre was his least favorite.) Worse yet, Lance watched Spanish ones (both from Spain and Latin America) without subtitles. Hunk couldn’t tell what was going on. He also refused to believe Lance’s explanations. Not knowing the full story was stressful. How was he supposed to know when there was a jump scare?

Before he knew it, he stood before Pidge’s door. “Pidge, you in?”

No response.

Well, he’d arrived a little earlier than ten minutes. He pushed the door open a crack, revealing… a clean room.

While any room would be clean compared to his dorm (or Lance’s side of it), Pidge’s place wasn’t a normal kind of clean. The walls were barren. No posters. No photos. No decorations. It reeked of cleaning supplies. The bed was perfectly made. Wrinkle-free and everything.

Just who was Pidge? He’d expected more than… this. It was like a shell of a person lived here. A mere husk. 

Granted, Hunk didn’t know much about Pidge. He kept to himself and always ignored invites from Lance. Not that he blamed Pidge. Lance’s fun ideas always wound up in disaster—or detention.

_Bing!_ An alert tone from Pidge’s desk caught Hunk’s attention. It was his computer. A bulky, presumably customized computer. Hunk looked over his shoulder. It probably wasn’t his place to look, but… he was curious.

He wiggled the mouse. He didn’t have to log in to see the notification's message:

> **Mom** : Katie, I hope wherever you are you’re safe and sound. Miss you and love you.

_Katie? Pidge is… a girl?_ So he hadn’t been wrong about Pidge hiding something. But why would Pidge hide that? _Maybe Pidge is transgender? A transman? Or… there’s something more than that. It sounds like he—she?—ran away from home._  

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. It was none of his business. And Pidge seemed like a pretty cool person. Well, maybe not cool, but a fellow nerd.

Once he made sure the notification was marked unread, Hunk set the computer on sleep mode and stood up. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but there was one picture in the room. It was framed, sitting on top of the monitor. He took it down for a closer look.

It was a picture of Pidge and… a girl. Was Pidge gay? The two looked related, so he nixed that idea. His eyes widened when he saw the Pidge clone’s glasses.

Pidge didn’t need glasses. Pidge could read and see fine without them.

Pidge was the girl in this photo.

Those glasses weren’t Pidge’s.

They belonged to that doppelgänger.

It almost all made sense. That’s why those glasses were so important to Pidge. They’d belonged to someone he (She? They?) loved and admired.

“Hunk, don’t touch that!”

He put it back, thankful he didn’t break it. “S-sorry.” Hunk smiled sheepishly. “Your girlfriend is just… she’s really cute.”

Blushing, Pidge turned away with a shy, strained smile. “Yeah, she really is.” Pidge then cleared his (Hunk then decided male pronouns were best since Pidge hadn’t brought it up) throat. “So, um… the glasses?”

“I need a source of heat. Like… a stove. Or a— “

“A Bunsen burner?” Pidge pulled open a drawer and pulled it out. “I borrowed it for a chemistry experiment and forgot to return it.”

Hunk choked back a laugh. _I was actually right about the Bunsen burner! Well, except it’s not stolen._

Pidge blinked owlishly at his teammate, but paid Hunk no mind as he plugged it in. “So, what does this fix involve, exactly? Because if it hurts my glasses, I really just should buy a new pair. I’d really like to have these fixed, but if it’s not possible, I understand. 

Hunk chuckled. It was rare when he was the calmest person in the room. “Slow down, Pidge.” He placed the pot over the burner’s flickering light. Luckily he remembered to fill it up with water on the way over. “We need the water to boil.”

“So when it hits 100 degrees Celsius, then what?”

Hunk readjusted his bandana. “We want it to be a steady boil. Boiling water is an art, Pidge.”

Pidge opened his mouth to ask another series of questions, but instead found a mouthful of peanut butter crackers. “Trust the process, Pidge.” 

Within about five minutes (which felt like twenty minutes to Pidge), Hunk decided the water was ready. Dowel rods in hand, Hunk snapped up one of the halved frames—he made it look no different than if he were using metal tongs.

Pidge whistled at the skillful handiwork, accidentally spewing cracker crumbs over the floor.

Hunk couldn’t tell if Pidge was impressed or being sarcastic. “The perks of Lance ordering Chinese takeout,” he joked. 

The dowel rods held the broken bridge over the pot for a few seconds. The distance was enough to the boiling water to soften the frames. Once Hunk deemed the first half hot enough, he gently placed it on a towel. All that was left was to repeat the process for the other half and reform them.

“We’re going to push those pins into the nose bridge, aren’t we? And smooth out the softened plastic over them?”

_Sheesh, he’s got a sharp mind._ Hunk ran a hand over his damp forehead. “Yup. Then they’re good to go.”

“I can do it from here.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I owed you one for the glasses. I’m finishing the job.” Hunk paused for a millisecond (anything longer would give Pidge room to interrupt). “Boom. Done.”

An ecstatic grin spread slowly across Pidge’s face. He slid on the glasses—good as new. If it weren’t for the missing lenses, Hunk was certain Pidge’s glasses would’ve been fogging up. “I don’t even know how I can begin to thank you. I really owe you.”

Hunk wanted to press Pidge for questions. Ask Pidge about who he was. The more he looked at Pidge, the more obvious it was that Pidge wasn’t male. (At least not male in the biological sense.) Pidge’s voice, avoidance of him and Lance, and overall cautiousness with his belongings. But it wasn’t his place to “out” Pidge.

“You don’t owe me anything, Pidge. But…” His gaze wandered to his backpack. “I do need some help with my physics assignment.”

Pidge scoffed. “That’s the least I can do to help. Thanks, Hunk.”

"Any time, buddy. Anytime."


	4. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! I decided to focus this work on the Paladins' reactions because...
> 
> 1\. I'm lazy.  
> 2\. I have a Voltron AU I've decided to start working on and want to focus on that.
> 
> Thanks for all of your support and kudos! And a BIG thanks to everyone who's left a comment on my fic. Your feedback is what really keeps me going.

Pidge slid through her opponent’s legs. Keith’s wide stance made it easy for her to dodge his attacks. She flicked her bayard, extending its whip function. Like a snake, it coiled around Keith’s leg. With a firm tug, Keith found himself on the floor, staring up at a pair of determined gold eyes.

Rover cheered for its master with excited chirps. It hovered away from the main training deck floor. Pidge had trained Rover to stay on the sidelines until someone said, “Yield.”

This time, Keith said it. He peeled his sweaty shirt off over his head and tossed it into a crumpled heap.

Rover flew over to Pidge’s side as if it were concerned for its master’s safety. Pidge stroked her little bot with a finger. “Good job, Rover!” (This elicited a purr from Rover.)

“Good job yourself, Pidge.” Keith grinned at his fellow paladin, who merely blushed at his praise. He stooped over to pick up his shirt. “Want me to take yours?”

Pidge paled. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Your shirt,” Keith said. “It’s filthy.” It was stained with what looked like coffee, food goo (probably leftover from one of their food fights), and reeked of sweat. He crinkled his nose. “Take it off.” His tone implied an order, not a request. 

Pidge’s fingers itched for her glasses. They made her feel smarter than she probably was. She curled her hands into fists and fought off the urge to push them up a little higher.

 _How am I going to get out of this one?_ She could tell him no, but Keith was right—her shirt was filthy. It was going to come off at some point. But if she took it off, there was no doubt Keith would figure out her secret.

So changing around Keith or anyone else was out of the question. Changing in private was the only option. But even that would raise questions. She could change in the bathroom, but suppose someone else barged in? Alteans were incredible inventors, but bathroom stalls were not one of them. And the only kinds of locks Alteans had were airlocks.

Pidge was lucky no one had ever barged in on her in the Castle. She was always pretty good about leaving toilet seats up—something she’d quickly picked up on back in the Garrison.

Perhaps changing in her room was less suspicious? “Let me go grab my other shirt first. It’s in my room.” She fled before Keith could get in another word, Rover chirping behind her.

 

* * *

 _What on Earth is his deal?_ Keith ran his hand through his thick hair. Why would Pidge be so private about something as simple as changing a shirt? Did the shirt have some important meaning?

Maybe it wasn’t about the shirt.

Maybe it was Pidge. 

Did Pidge have a problem with him? Not as far as Keith knew. In fact, Pidge seemed fairly friendly towards him. They had one thing in comment: the nuisance named Lance McClain. Poor Pidge probably had to live with the guy at the Garrison.

“Hey, Hunk?” Keith had somehow wandered into the kitchen. He hadn’t realized it until he saw a safety-goggled Hunk inspecting a food dispenser. 

“Mm-hm?”

“What was it like, living with Pidge and Lance?”

Hunk tugged his goggles off, leaving them hanging off his neck. “With Lance. I lived with Lance. Pidge had a single room.” He then went on to tell a story about what living with Lance was like. It was about the same as Keith had assumed: a disaster filled with bad decisions and laughter.

Keith decided he didn’t want to find out every single detail of Lance’s life, so he slunk away to his favorite place in the Castle.

 

* * *

 “Hey, pretty girl.” Keith patted the Red Lion’s paw. A rumble echoed through the Red Lion’s hangar. Red was pleased with her Paladin’s show of affection. 

The Lions didn’t have biological sexes, but calling Red a boy felt wrong. Years ago, Keith had read that male lions were either loners or surrounded themselves with females. A harem, as Lance occasionally called the Lions.

But the lionesses? They did all of the work. They hunted and raised families while the males lay out sunning themselves. Kept everything running.

Sort of like the Lions and their Paladins. Like lionesses, they all worked together as one unit. A family. But lately, there’d been some sort of disconnect. Everyone was still getting to know one another, but Pidge was still closed off from most of them. But why? Pidge was one of them. A fellow Paladin. And he was smart, small, and a surprisingly good fighter. Heck, Pidge even had a girlfriend.

 _Wait. Wait a second._ Keith shot upright, nearly bumping his head on Red’s jaw. _What if Pidge is gay?_ _Or bi?_ It all made sense now. If Pidge wasn’t as straight as he seemed, maybe that’s why he’d left to change shirts so quickly. And so defensive about his girlfriend. He was shy about seeing Keith shirtless. _What if he **likes** me? Because… Well, I don’t exactly feel the same way._

Perhaps the best thing would be to ask Pidge.

Keith found himself standing before the Green Paladin’s room. It took him a moment to realize where he was and why he was there.

He slowly pushed open the door. He nearly spoke Pidge’s name, but his voice was stuck in his throat. Pidge was slipping on a fresh shirt over a bandaged chest.

Except… that wasn’t a bandage.

Keith slipped out of Pidge’s room.

He’d seen _Mulan_ once, and the sight before him was more or less the same. It had been in one of his many foster homes. He’d gone through the system, bouncing from family to family. Nothing really stuck, save for a couple things. (Like the lion school project and _Mulan._ )

Maybe that was why he loved it up here. They were all stuck together in this situation—a situation that would be impossible to forget. 

Lines from another movie in another home suddenly came to his mind: “Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.”

For the first time in his life, Keith had a family. Not the most conventional kind. But if that meant he had a sibling (he wasn’t sure if “sister” or “brother” fit Pidge), he would do everything in his power to protect them.

There had to be a reason for Pidge doing this. Maybe Pidge’s safety was at risk.

Pidge was family now. 

And Keith wasn’t going to risk his newfound family’s safety anytime soon.


End file.
